


Come Back Home

by tell_tale_heart



Series: Mirrored [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Altean Lance (Voltron), F/M, Galra Keith (Voltron), Light Angst, Light Smut, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-11
Updated: 2017-03-11
Packaged: 2018-10-02 19:35:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10225547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tell_tale_heart/pseuds/tell_tale_heart
Summary: Prince Lance bids his lover, Keith, a quiet goodbye as the half-Galra soldier leaves on an important mission.A week later, Altea loses all communication with the ship Keith left on.Naturally, Lance fears the worst.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [florealbliss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/florealbliss/gifts).



> Hey hey hey (channeling some Bokuto Koutarou rn)!
> 
> I wrote this one-shot for [cupcakelevi,](http://archiveofourown.org/users/cupcakelevi/profile) also known as [kagekii](http://kagekii.tumblr.com) on tumblr. Oh my, her Galra Keith art is amazing--ahhhhh it totally inspired me to write this!! Kags, thank you for your beautiful art!!
> 
> I also happened to hear Zayn's acoustic version of "I Don't Wanna Live Forever" which also served as inspiration--Kags also told me about that song because I had only heard the version with Zayn and Taylor Swift, I love the acoustic version much more!
> 
> Gio, you're such a wonderful friend! I'm so extremely excited each time we get to gush about klance together--not to mention kpop and Jimin and stuff that is completely frustrating. I'm sure you have days where you are less than happy but that never comes across when we chat--thank you for being so positive and sweet. You are a gem of a friend!

Lance feels quite warm despite the fact that the window in his room has long since been thrown open, the early spring air crisp and cool as he breathes in deeply. His body has begun to wind down from the labors of love-making, and he appreciates the feel of the chill air on his skin. It makes goosebumps rise to the surface on his chest, his arms, and he watches contentedly as Keith’s smooth fingertips curiously pass over the top of each one. Even in the waning light of the day, Lance still fully admires the beautiful soft-lavender tone of Keith’s skin in moments like this, so different than his own darker, tan hue.

Dinner is to be served soon, and Lance doesn’t want to go. Because that means he will be sitting far away from his half-Galra lover, fulfilling the obligations of an Altean prince. It will be precious minutes sliding through his fingers like fine grains of sand blowing away in the wind, time spent in polite conversation with other nobles or ambassadors. All while trying hard not to stare too long at Keith across the large dining hall, seated amongst the other guests of King Alfor. He would much rather have an attendant bring some light fare to his room, spending the night snacking on fruit and fresh cheese, in-between explorations of Keith’s body.

But he knows that he has responsibilities to uphold, and will do so. Normally, Lance would be able to contain his impatience at such a short separation. Tonight is different, however. Because it will be the last night for a while that Keith will be on Altea, going on a mission for an undetermined length of time. And it’s not a diplomatic mission that will send Keith and the rest of the members of the Blade of Marmora away, which has Lance more than a little worried. Despite the fact that he has seen how fierce and skilled of a fighter Keith and his comrades are. And sure, Lance, as the prince of Altea, has sat in on the planning stages of this mission and knows that the insurgents pose little threat to the Altean-Blades of Marmora alliance. 

He still worries, though he tries not to show it.

“We should get dressed, my prince,” Keith murmurs, lips pressing down gently on Lance’s shoulder before he rises to a seated position. And wow, damn, that’s a new and incredibly hot view that Lance has, gazing unabashedly at the definition of his lover’s lean musculature. 

“I know.” Lance rises, too, stretching his long arms up in the air and feeling a satisfying pop somewhere. “But I don’t wanna.”

Keith smiles indulgently, and Lance loves seeing it, pausing a moment to commit the sight to memory. When he first met Keith and the Blades of Marmora, he had been awed at how serious they all were, rarely showing any kind of emotion. He had understood it, to an extent. For it was part of Altean culture to not show overt displays of emotion in public--something that was often a struggle for Lance. Yet how these new visitors held themselves was far beyond anything he had ever seen before. And he had made it a challenge to see if he could provoke the beautiful man he had come to know was Keith into an emotional response. 

He had succeeded, though not at first. 

Lance had started off small, poking Keith discreetly in the side during formal gatherings when he happened to pass by with Allura, his older sister chastising him for trying to antagonize. Ignoring her, he looked back to see Keith staring at him but his expression had been inscrutable. Hmmm. The prince had gone back to the drawing board. 

Next, Lance had “innocently” offered Keith a light-blue fruit, native to Altea, that looked like it might be sweet and juicy. Ha. It wasn’t. Everyone on Altea knew that it would taste neither good nor bad, but would dry one’s mouth out for a while after, causing an unpleasant puckering sensation as a result. But Keith had just eaten the fruit without delay, showing no adverse reaction to it. After he had finished it, he had thanked the prince politely enough and then walked away. Lance had been shocked, thinking that perhaps Keith’s half-Galran genetics had somehow prevented him from having the same reaction as an Altean would. 

He would never know that Keith would later tell his brother, Shiro, “Do not consume the blue Altean fruit if they offer it. It is very unappetizing.”

Lance’s last plan took place during the summer festival in Altea’s capital. The prince had woven Keith a flower crown, presenting the half-Galra soldier with it.

“It’s customary to wear these during the festival,” Lance had explained, trying his best to look solemn. “To celebrate the beauty of the season.”

“I accept,” Keith had said, ever serious, leaning so that Lance could set it upon his plum hair. 

Hours later found Keith being approached by group after group of children with flower crowns in their hair, taking his large hands in theirs and dancing around in circles, happy that an adult was taking part in festivities that only children usually participated in. Lance guffawed each time he saw it happen, wiping away tears of mirth.

“Your Royal Highness,” his attendant, Julian, had reminded him, “You are in a public place. Perhaps you should not be so . . . jovial . . . around the citizens.”

“It’s the summer festival, Julian! It’s a time for  _ joviality!” _

Julian had tried to hide his exasperation at the prince, and Lance continued to beam, his smile wide and eyes twinkling. Keith had approached him soon after, the tops of his cheeks bright pink with embarrassment.

“You tricked me,” Keith said quietly, looking down at the ground but still towering over the prince. The flower crown was now dangling loosely in his hand.

“I did.”

“Why?”

And Lance couldn’t really give him an adequate explanation. Why, of all of the Galra, did he single out Keith? Sure, he had been attracted to him from the onset, but over the weeks of observing him, trying to goad him into some sort of emotional response, he had found that his own feelings had undergone a change. That he cherished each of those small conversations he had with the taller man, who he had come to find out was the same age as he. That he was forever searching the dining hall or the grounds for some hint of long, plum hair and bright, yellow eyes. Eager to engage Keith in some sort of conversation, no matter how trivial it might be.

“I don’t know,” he had said, his own cheeks reddening. 

It had been a few weeks later, during the castle’s large celebration of his father’s birthday, that things had begun to change. The weather had been pleasant and the winds calm, so the bulk of the celebration took place outside. Lance, as usual, had tried to be inconspicuous with looking around, trying to find Keith. When he finally did, he found that Keith was already staring at him.

Neither of them bothered to look away for quite some time.

After dinner that night, Keith had stepped to his side, and asked him if he would show him around the abundant flower gardens that the royal family kept. Suddenly shy himself, Lance had nodded, the two of them strolling silently around, while the sun began to hang low on the horizon. Some time later, they found themselves quite alone, far away from other partygoers, sitting close together on a stone bench. Keith had taken Lance’s hand in his much larger one, his body stiff with nervousness. Something bold and bright bloomed in Lance’s heart then, and emboldened, he leaned over to kiss the half-Galra sweetly on the lips.

“Your Royal Highness,” Keith said quietly, cheeks a bright pink and yellow eyes blinking rapidly. “I wanted to ask you something.”

“Go ahead,” Lance murmured, still feeling fearless, his heart like the wings of a hummingbird, fluttering fast in his chest.

“I--I,” Keith began, hair falling into his face, his usual stoic nature now revealing some real churnings of emotion. “I should have asked, before I took your hand. Forgive me. That is not the Galra way. But I wanted to know if I--if I have your permission to court you?”

Everything was right with the world.

“You do,” Lance had said tremulously. 

Their kiss then would be something Lance would forever remember, especially on those days when fate would necessitate they be apart. Keith leaned forward, his lips pressing earnestly down and missing his intended target, instead touching the corner of Lance’s mouth. The tenderness of it was seared onto his heart, the innocence of it softening every single part of Lance’s being. The bright-pink blush on Keith’s cheeks didn’t escape his notice. Together they joined their lips, meeting again and again, Keith daring to wind an arm around the Altean prince, his fingers lightly touching the soft fabric of Lance’s draped garment.

“Are you alright, my love?” Keith’s voice rumbles, his long fingers caressing Lance’s cheek, his golden eyes concerned.

“You leave tomorrow,” Lance states, after a pause. He looks up to meet Keith’s gaze, the mood shifting to something different, the prince uncharacteristically serious. Eyes that normally sparkle like sapphires in the sunlight are dark and subdued in the dimly lit room. “I will miss you.”

“As I, you.” 

They slowly get ready to dine, helping each other get dressed. It’s very intimate, and Lance lets his hands linger longer than he normally would have, trying to memorize the feel of Keith’s skin under the pads of his fingertips, the breadth of his waist. And it’s no different for Keith, who attaches his lover’s evening cloak around him carefully, but his eyes are on Lance’s face. Unexpectedly, he pulls him into a tight embrace.

“I will think of you, every minute of every day,” Keith vows, resting his chin on top of Lance’s head, the prince’s hair silvery-white and soft. 

The statement makes Lance even more emotional, because his lover never says anything he doesn’t mean. 

“You shouldn’t do that when you’re in the middle of a battle, you know,” he tries to joke, trying to fight off tears.

Keith hums, and it sends a deep rumble through his body, which Lance feels. “Even then, you will be foremost in my thoughts.”

Lance does cry then, but he only lets loose a few tears before pulling away from the embrace, hastily wiping the offending droplets before Keith can see. Later on, he is quiet the entire time at dinner, but nobody really notices because the rest of the dining hall is full of a nervous energy that only comes on before an impending battle. His eyes are never far away from Keith, who is eating dinner next to his brother. 

The next morning dawns, and Lance walks with Allura to the hangar, where the members of the Blades of Marmora have gathered to depart. Along with the Galrans, a few Alteans are going along, in order to help broker a peace treaty once there is no more fighting. Lance had wanted desperately to go, but his father had not granted him permission.

He thinks next time that maybe he will just sneak on board the ship, regardless of his father’s instructions.

Keith looks over at the hangar’s entrance as soon as he hears the heavy sound of the door opening, and Lance walks steadily toward him, holding in his emotions just as he was taught. He senses more than sees Allura head over to speak to Shiro--the two of them have been . . . something or the other the last month or so, though his sister has yet to commit to any specifics. But Lance isn’t thinking about Allura or Shiro at the moment, eyes and heart and mind fixed only on Keith.

“You have come to see me off,” Keith says quietly, leaving a respectable amount of distance between them, due to the fact that there are a fair amount of other people present. 

“You knew I would,” Lance replies in an even tone, not revealing the true nature of his turbulent emotions.

“Yes.”

Lance clears his throat, or at least tries to, of the feeling that a sudden lump is lodged there. “I have brought you something.” The prince reaches into the depths of his pockets, bringing forth a golden ring on a matching chain. He holds it out on the flat of his palm, and Keith takes it uncertainly.

“Your . . . I believe it is called your signet ring?”

Lance nods. “I want you to take it with you.”

“Is this not your most-prized possession, my prince?” Keith turns it over in his hand, glancing at it briefly before looking back at Lance.

“It is, indeed.” His golden signet ring bears his initials and the crest of the royal family, along with his date of birth. All of the royal family has one that is similar, and uses it to sign official documents. His fingers are thinner than Keith’s, so he had attached the ring to a chain so that his lover could wear it that way. “I will need it back. That means you have to come back home, to me, in order to return it.”

The meaning doesn’t escape Keith, nor does the gravity of the gesture. He slides the gold chain over his head, tucking the necklace and ring underneath his close-fitting clothing.

“I will return to you.”

The assembled party begins to board their ship, and both Keith and Shiro are among the last in the hangar. And despite both of their predispositions to not be affectionate in front of others, Keith takes Lance’s hand in his and kisses it gently, letting lips linger while his eyes communicate feelings not necessary to vocalize.

“I love you,” Lance says in an almost-whisper, once Keith has let go of his hand. 

“I love you, my prince.” Keith nods once at his lover, and then turns to head to the ship. He looks back when he reaches the entrance, and then disappears into the large craft.

The ship takes off a few minutes later, and Lance doesn’t attempt to stem the flow of tears cascading freely down his face. When the ship finally takes off, Allura takes her brother into her arms, and it is only then that Lance allows himself to sob, burying his face into her shoulder.  
  


* * *

 

The next week passes slowly, oh so excruciatingly slowly. Lance spends his days meeting with a delegation of ambassadors and other representatives from a not too far-off planet, Kotka. The people are feline in nature, with fur and tails and whiskers. Lance would normally have joke upon joke to make about the Kotkans, filling his sister’s ear with his inappropriate observations about their short stature and the like, but he is strangely quiet and professional. King Alfor, on more than one occasion, observes his son being polite and sensitive to the Kotkans’ needs, and wonders about the change.

But Allura, who knows her brother better, sees that it is all a front. Her brother is distracted, does not talk with his usual flair that gets people to laugh and be immediately at ease. She does not bring the matter to his attention, however, believing it to be a way Lance copes with the absence of his lover. Because she does not want him to feel the burden even more heavily.

It is with a barely-contained impatience that Lance returns to his room each evening hurriedly. His duties as both prince and an official ambassador keep him very busy at times, especially when Altea has visitors from another planet. It’s hours of careful negotiations and performances by Kotkan acrobats and learning about each other’s cultures. So the hour is quite late when he swiftly shuts the door behind himself on this night, haphazardly taking off his burdensome clothing until he is in only his underclothes.

He sits down heavily in front of his computer, gratified to see that he has a new message waiting for him--received some four hours or so ago. Eagerly he clicks on the transmission, and is presented with Keith’s beautiful image on his screen. Lance takes a moment to drink in the angles of his face, the brightness in his lover’s eyes. How he still holds himself kind of shyly during these kinds of transmissions, ducking his head at times and a pink blush coating his cheeks, even though Lance is the only one that sees them. He can’t hold back a smile when he sees that Keith has tied his hair back, with only the shorter strands falling forward to frame his face, large tufty ears even more on display. And when he sees the golden chain peeking out from behind the folds of Keith’s uniform, he knows now more than ever that he wants Keith to be his forever, lifelong loves seeking out new adventures together.

He really loves this man. He really misses him, too.

“Good morning, my prince,” Keith begins, nodding at whatever device he is using on his end. “Or at least it is morning here. Dawn, actually. I hope you are well, and that you are not eating too many of those Kotkan delicacies that you spoke of yesterday. I know it will only upset your stomach, and you are not exactly the most quiet when it comes to an ailment.” Lance smirks. He is  _ totally  _ eating too many of them, swiping the sweet lemony cakes off serving platters each time he passes by one. And yeah, he probably complains to anyone that happens to be nearby about his resulting stomachache.

Keith shifts around on his chair, looking down at the ground, almost apprehensive now. The change is very subtle, but Lance has learned to pick up on even the most infinitesimal of differences. The look is still there when the half-Galra looks back up at the screen.

“Today we plan to enter the deep jungles of this planet, where we suspect the insurgents have fled to their base with their hostages. There seems to be some sort of electrical interference in that area, which affects our technology.”

Lance feels his heart begin to pound in his chest, not liking the sound of what Keith just said. It sounds like a heavy battle is about to take place, and he is worried about what his love may encounter during the fight. And he knows the Blades of Marmora have sophisticated equipment, the likes of which are still being taught to the Alteans. Still--the fact that even Keith seems to be a little perturbed about it sends off warning bells in his mind.

“But we believe we have fully compensated for it. We are confident that we will be able to complete our assignment in a handful of days, and hopefully be on our way back to Altea in no less than a week.” Keith pauses here, and a soft smile spreads slowly across his face. “I miss you, my love. It is  . . . hard to sleep when I am not next to you. I cannot wait to be at your side again, to have you in my arms. I will return home to you soon. Sleep well tonight. I love you.”

The transmission ends there, and Lance replays it, wanting more. Wanting his lover’s arms to be holding him tightly, keeping the world around them at bay. Wanting to feed Keith those sweet Kotkan treats, reaching forward to kiss off any crumbs that get left behind. Wanting Keith to be in his bed, bare and wanting him, his skin a darker purple with the heat of his passion. 

But he will be patient. Keith said about a week, right? That’s not so very long. 

It’s with that reassurance that Lance sends back his own transmission--but not before examining his reflection critically in a mirror to make sure his hair is still neatly styled. Soon after, he falls into a deep sleep, imagining Keith lying there beside him, pressing kisses into his hair.

 

* * *

 

“Lance?”

Lance thinks he hears his name called, but he’s too sleepy to find out. It’s a high, fluty voice--not the one he most wants to hear. So he lets himself relax into sleep again.

“Lance!” 

This time, whoever it is that is calling him is shaking his shoulder and  _ he does not like it. _ He has never been a morning person, and does not do well with getting suddenly wakened before he is good and ready to function. His attendant, Julian, never wakes him in this fashion. He kicks sleepily at whoever is being inconsiderate, not making contact. He hopes they go away when they see he has no interest in waking up yet.

“Brother! You must wake up. I have urgent news.”

Lance opens his eyes at that, and it is Allura standing at the side of his bed, her usually serene eyes quite troubled. She’s clutching anxiously at her robe, mouth fixed in a frown. Lance knows instantly that whatever has happened, he will not like it.

“What is it? What happened?” He slides out from underneath his covers, shrugging on his own velvety-soft robe. Allura is still standing there in front of him, agitation clear in every aspect of her being. Threads of worry begin to wind their way through him. He doesn’t like this feeling at all, how it feels like it is pressing in on him from every side.

“I wanted to tell you, before you heard the news elsewhere . . .” she begins slowly, forced calm very apparent in her voice. “So that you can be composed when you are in front of others . . . “

“Allura. What. Has. Happened.” Lance flicks the quickest of glances over at his computer. There is no flashing purple light to indicate he has a message waiting for him--that isn’t unusual for this time of day, but still, he had hoped. The threads of worry begin to evolve into ropes of anxiety, binding him.

Allura considers her brother for a second or two, taking a step closer and laying her hands on his shoulders. “Altea lost all contact with the Galran ship a few hours ago. The reason is unknown, at this time. The last transmission from Kolivan was abruptly cut off.”

_ No. _

Something tears inside of Lance, ripping and shredding. He sucks in a breath, eyes wild and looking around his room.

**No.**

It can’t be. No. Keith is going to send him a message later, as usual. He’s fine, totally fine. Keith even told him about the weird interference in the planet’s jungle.

_ But he said they had compensated for it, remember? _

“No!” Lance shrieks, and pushes away from his sister. He has to get to Altean central communications, he has to see or hear some news for himself.

He sprints down hallways, alarming the Altean household staff, wondering what could cause Lance to run in such an undignified matter, tears streaming down his cheeks. When he finally makes it to the hub of their capital’s communication center, King Alfor is already there, a look of grave concern etched on his face as he looks down at a monitor.

Lance knows, then, that it’s bad. He falls to his knees and sobs, shoulders shaking in his flood of grief.

_ Keith,  _ is all he thinks, his heart pained.  _ Keith. _

He is escorted some time later back to his room, where he stays the rest of the day, his duties for the morning and afternoon forgotten. Allura visits him later, but he is inconsolable, staring at his computer forlornly and daring to hope for a notification that he has received a transmission.

He doesn’t get one.

The next couple of days are the worst that Lance has ever experienced, and they pass like thick sludge being forced through a strainer. It’s ugly. It’s unwelcome. It doesn’t go away. Lance finds that he has no appetite, not even for the Kotkan treats that he had been so fond of a few days earlier. He just stares down at his plate, not able to look at Keith’s empty seat across the dining hall. But the painful thought still crosses his mind . . .  _ Will he ever see Keith sitting there again? _

No contact has been reestablished with the Altean-Blades of Marmora joined forces. Nobody has extra insight into what has happened, or why that ship’s advanced communication system is still down. 

But Lance can see it on their faces. They think the worst, though they don’t speak of it . . . at least around him. Perhaps he isn’t privy to that level of information. But he thinks it a greater possibility that his father, the king, doesn’t wish him to know. Knowing that Lance gives in to his emotional side much more than other Alteans, and very aware of how strongly his son feels for his lover. And appealing to Allura does no good, for she doesn't seem to have any more information than he does. She seems distraught as well, though she hides it much better than Lance.

The third day without any other news passes just as painfully. Lance can’t sleep anymore either, so he wanders the corridors aimlessly that night, lets himself out onto the grounds. He’s even slowly meandering along the garden path that he and Keith traipsed through so long ago, when the half-Galra had asked Lance’s permission to court him.

That bright and happy memory stings spitefully at Lance, and he turns around to make his way back to his room. But around the bend he hears quiet voices. Not wanting to be noticed, not wanting to talk to anybody, Lance hides behind a couple of stone pillars. In the light of the day, he would still be clearly seen. But the soft light in the gardens at night is not enough to reveal his hidden form, and he breathes easy in relief.

Two of King Alfor’s advisors pass leisurely by, and their topic of conversation pricks Lance’s interest. 

“It is certain, then, that there was a surprise attack of some sort?” The first--Adrian, Lance knows--asks.

“Mmm. Yes. Kolivan’s transmission was cut off in the midst of some chaos. There were sounds of multiple explosions, and then nothing after that,” the second advisor, Jamin, says quietly.

“His Majesty has not shared this information with many, I gather?”

“No. You saw His Royal Highness, Prince Lance. The news would only serve to further agitate him, I am sure.”

Lance has barely enough self-control to wait until they are gone to run back along the path and to his room. He sits on the end of his bed, head in his hands, rocking in place. Of course, he assumes the worst, and his tears are hot against his cheeks. He is not aware of the passing of time, his mind a mixed jumble of stormy grief, caged love, and free-flowing helplessness. Allura finds him in the morning, still on the end of his bed and dressed in his clothes from the day before. Her heart hurts to see her brother pining away so painfully, and how he doesn’t even find relief in sleep, as seen in the way he twitches restlessly on his side.

She coaxes him to speak to her when he wakes, and Lance tells her what he heard the previous night in the gardens.

“I can see why you might be afraid, after hearing that,” Allura says softly, eyes steady as she looks upon her brother. “But don’t you see? That might be why communications are down right now. Those explosions--perhaps they caused heavy damage to the ship. And they didn’t exactly bring many spare parts with them.”

Despite himself, Lance feels a trickle of hope, a candle flame of illumination against a dark forest at night. “He said he would come back home to me.”

“And so he will. I have never met a more stubborn person than Keith--he wears his dignity and honor on his sleeve. He would never let you down.”

Allura has some breakfast brought to them, and for the first time in days, Lance is able to eat. He nibbles slowly at a croissant. But then crunches loudly into a piece of fruit, not caring that its sticky juices freely flow down his chin. Allura just shakes her head fondly at her brother when she normally would have lectured him, ruffling his hair affectionately.

_ Come back, Shiro,  _ she thinks silently.  _ And bring your brother back with you. _

Lance returns to his duties later that afternoon, engaging in polite conversation when needed, offering his input to trade negotiations. But he’s still nowhere near back to being himself, Allura notices, though she is happy that her brother is back to his familiar routine. She believes it will keep his mind off of Keith for most of the day.

It does. But a few more days pass in this manner, and still no word about the fate of the Alteans and the Galrans that had gone away on their mission--which had been to save a people who had been invaded by outsiders in a quest to usurp all of their planet’s natural resources. So Lance’s mask starts to slip more and more each day, and every night he returns back to his room and sees that he has no new messages from Keith. Instead of breaking down into tears now, he has started to feel a cold emptiness where once his heart had been so warm and giving. He still eats these days, but it is mechanically so; he takes no delight in even the choicest of morsels.

But fate is not always so cruel, and Fortune occasionally deals someone a good hand. It is the very next day, a week since Lance last heard from Keith, that there is news. The prince is sitting in on the closing negotiations between the Alteans and the Kotkans, when Dulcis, an advisor, enters the room.

“I sincerely apologize,” she says, cheeks flushed and slightly out of breath. It is clear that she has run to get there. “Your Majesty, I have news of a sensitive nature.”

The two step outside the room, and Lance can feel it, it has something to do with the joint Altean-Galran force. He pushes back his chair, but feels a hand on his wrist.

“Lance,” Allura says quietly. “Maybe . . . maybe we should wait.”

Lance just shakes his head at her. She has much more restraint than he does . . . she will make an excellent queen one day, he knows. So it can’t be helped--when it comes to Keith, he will always pull out all the stops. News about the love of his life might be on the line here, and there is no question about whether or not he will follow his father. 

“I can’t,” he says simply. 

Allura studies him calmly for a minute, before nodding, as if coming to some unshakeable conclusion. “Go with him,” she says to Julian, who nods respectfully at the princess.

Lance steps out into the hallway, only to see his father and Dulcis disappearing around the corner. But their voices are not so quiet, carrying down the corridor.

“--approaching the surface?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. Even now, they may have already landed. Their communications grid was destroyed in the attack--”

Lance doesn’t wait around to hear more. He sprints down the corridor after his father and Dulcis, hearing Julian’s quiet reproach, “Your Highness, please take care to exercise more dignity-”

Yeah, right. 

He overtakes his father and Dulcis, feet pounding down on the carpet. His cloak billows out behind him like some absurd sail, but he does not care. He has one thing--one person, to be exact--on his mind.

“Lance!” his father calls, but he pays him no heed. He doesn’t tire, not even when he is out of the castle and running across the stone-paved path that connects a small distance away to the main hangar--the only one that can house a ship the size of the one Keith left in. He doesn’t feel the sun shining down and warming his body, but he feels a strong surge of hope, mixed in with a jolt of fear, as he throws open the door. 

And it’s chaos. Organized chaos, to be sure. But still chaos all the same. The ship that the task force had left in is secured in place, and the loading ramp is extended down into the hangar. He takes a second to see that there is damage to the exterior--black marks are the remaining evidence of what looks like a heated battle that took place at some point. The sight makes Lance swallow heavily, his worry intensifying.

The prince sees that Galrans are still getting off of the craft, some walking unattended and unscathed, but groups here and there are escorting an injured comrade, the Galran between the two of them noticeably limping and grimacing. Altean medics are already on the scene, rushing towards the Galrans as they disembark, easing them onto a hover-stretcher. Loud voices call out orders in authoritative voices. There are shouts of “Medic!” and “Over here!” all around Lance, as he takes a few tentative steps into the hangar, his eyes wide and searching for one particular plum head of hair.

There’s no sign of Keith, though, and Lance feels a stab of fear enter his gut. 

_ Nononononono _

Alteans and Galrans alike notice Lance’s presence and nod deferentially at him as they rush past with a patient, but the prince doesn’t see it. Fear like he has never known before has him caught in its web, and all he can do is flounder around and try to be free of the trap.

“Your Royal Highness, you should  _ not _ be here,” Julian lectures from somewhere behind him. Lance tunes him out immediately. Does he not understand? His eyes fall on a familiar Galra passing by--Thace, Lance remembers distantly.

“Hey. Thace!” Lance clutches at the Galran’s arm desperately, hoping that he will forgive Lance’s forwardness at clutching at him so familiarly when they have only exchanged a handful of words. Thace does indeed look down at where Lance has a tight hold on him but does not rebuke him. 

“Your Royal Highness? What can I do for you? I am very busy, at the moment.”

“I-uh,” Lance begins unsteadily, wanting to ask but fearing the answer. “Keith.”

Thace seems to understand and nods firmly. It is more than likely that he knows that the two of them are lovers. They haven’t kept it a secret. “He is there.” 

Lance looks in the direction that Thace is pointing, not knowing what he’s going to see. Keith, healthy and rushing toward him? Keith, hurt and on a stretcher? But Lance’s wide blue eyes finally close in on his lover, Keith’s long plum hair like nobody else’s, and his throat closes in on a sob.

A sob of relief.

Keith has Shiro braced against his side, one arm tucked around his brother and the other hanging on to Shiro’s arm that is curled around his neck. Shiro is clearly injured, heavily favoring one leg and yellow eyes flashing furiously at how much pain he is in. Lance can see that Keith is talking to his brother, perhaps offering him words of encouragement to keep him walking down the ramp to where a hover-stretcher is waiting for him.

_ He’s alive. _

Lance falls to his knees, a shuddery exhale leaving his body, tears streaming down his face. The relief he feels is palpable, washing over him, causing his body and mind to relax from days full of worry and grief. From somewhere nearby, Julian is saying something about how Lance ought to get to his feet and respectably represent the Altean royal family, but again, he tunes him out.

Keith helps his brother onto the stretcher, and Lance can see that Shiro says something to his brother, but he is not capable of reading lips. But whatever it is, Keith seems to readily agree, nodding firmly at the medics who need to take Shiro away for treatment. And then he’s half-turning, now facing the direction of the hangar’s main entrance, where Lance is still kneeling helplessly on the ground.

It’s obvious the moment that Keith recognizes Lance, because his entire body stiffens for the briefest of moments, maybe not expecting his love to be so close. Maybe expecting to have to seek Lance out somewhere in the castle, announcing his return. But a blink later he is rushing to the prince’s side, kneeling in front of him, touching his arms gently.

“My prince,” Keith says in a low and dark voice, wrought full of intensity. “You are crying. Who hurt you? I will end them.”  He pushes up Lance’s sleeves, thoroughly inspecting his skin, golden eyes blazing with fury at the possibility that someone would have dared lay a hand on his lover. And it’s almost more than Lance can handle at the moment. From the looks of it, Keith has just been through hell and back with his companions, but his first instinct is to ensure his lover’s safety and well-being.

“No . . . “ Lance murmurs, his face wet. He lays his hands on top of Keith’s, leaning forward to kiss him gently on the lips. “I have not been harmed. I missed you. I didn’t know if you were alive . . . “ A sob makes his body shudder again, his relief at Keith’s return that strong. Without conscious thought, he propels himself forward, long, skinny arms clamping around Keith’s neck, his lips kissing every free inch on the side of the half-Galra’s face with an unbridled fervor.

“Your Royal Highness,” comes Julian’s exasperated voice once again, “perhaps you should not be so . . . overt . . . with your display.”

Lance hears, and feels, Keith’s responding growl. The rumble of it vibrates through his body, and he glances up through tear-filled eyes to see Keith’s eyes narrow, his skin turning a dark purple. Lance has never seen his lover react this way, possessively snaking an arm around Lance’s body, holding him close.

“We are leaving,” Keith says through bared teeth, rising to his feet and hefting Lance up with him. “Now.”

Lance doesn’t argue--he doesn’t want to. He wants Keith all to himself, wants to let himself become undone with relief at the fact that his love has returned to him. He starts to become drunk on the feeling, even as Keith tugs him along to Lance’s suite of rooms. And it’s like no time has passed before the door is slammed shut behind the both of them, the sound of the lock being fastened somehow loud in the sudden quiet of the prince’s antechamber.

“You are shaking,” Keith says tenderly, his voice quiet. His fingers trail up the sides of Lance’ neck, coming to rest on his heated cheeks.

Lance doesn’t respond, wide blue eyes caught on every subtle change in Keith’s face, still not totally believing that he’s back home. Hours and days of worry begin to slowly melt away, though the prince still clings onto the soldier’s uniform tightly. He presses his face into Keith’s neck, breathing in his scent, hands secure around his torso.

Time passes in this way, Keith holding the prince securely to him, still on edge that Lance had been hurting. But he eventually speaks, once the prince’s heart has stopped beating so rapidly, and his breaths are easy and relaxed once more.

“The insurgents had some sort of weapon,” Keith says in way of explanation, kissing the top of Lance’s head. “We still haven’t figured out how, but it dismantled all of our communications array. I am sorry that I could not get a message through to you.”

Lance’s response is to kiss Keith, his lips pressing slow but hot into his lover’s--he needs this now, to let go of the fear that has been his constant companion over the last week in favor of the sweet but intense passion that rises between them when they make love to each other. And he can tell that the sudden gesture surprises Keith, but the half-Galra quickly adjusts, relaxing his own body, returning the kiss just as heatedly. 

They move over to Lance’s bed after a while, taking their time with disrobing. When Keith takes off his uniform, the prince sees that he is still wearing the ring he had given him, the golden chain dangling low over the center of Keith’s chest. Lance presses his warm palm over it, holding it against Keith’s skin.

“You still wear it?” Lance questions, eyes slowly panning up to meet Keith’s soft gaze.

“Of course, my prince. I never took it off.”

Lance exhales sharply at that, a heady feeling of unconditional love taking precedence over all other feelings. He reaches up and wraps his arms around Keith’s neck, rejoining their lips and tonguing into his lover’s mouth, exalting in their shared devotion to each other. Their passion is a thick pulse of feeling, demanding attention, the room full of their hard exhalations and soft moans. But the two of them don’t want to make this fast. They’ve waited long enough to be reunited, so the slow enjoyment of kisses, of touches, is what they both need right now. 

Keith hovers closely over Lance some time later, lovingly caressing him all over, his lips not far behind from exploring each part of tan skin within his reach. His thrusts are a steady rhythm, and he strokes Lance with one hand, whispering his love’s name. Lance blinks a few times at hearing that, the low reverence in the half-Galra’s voice. Something lovely and intricate blooms in his heart again, that which had been missing for a week. Keith sees it on Lance’s face and becomes mesmerized by the look and the ever-changing blue of his eyes, awed once again that such a stunning being can exist.

They are lying in each other’s arms some time later, neither of them even coming close to entertaining the thought of moving anytime soon. They don’t know what time it is, nor do they care, but it becomes obvious that night has fallen due to the bright moonlight pouring in from Lance’s window. 

“I thought of you constantly,” Keith says quietly, fingers nimbly moving over Lance’s chest and abdomen before resting on his thigh. “Even when I tried to fall asleep, you were there in my mind.”

Lance knows, has known since the beginning, what Keith’s role as a member of the Blades of Marmora meant. That he wouldn’t always be able to stay on Altea as the two powers worked towards securing additional allies in their ultimate plan to overthrow Zarkon and his malicious followers. So Lance wouldn’t ever think of asking Keith to stop going on missions that would take him into dangerous territory. But. There is one thing he would like to request.

“Next time you must go,” Lance says, linking his fingers through Keith’s, “would you take one of Altea’s emergency communication devices with you? It draws power from a crystal, and would work independently of your technology. So that in case this were to happen again, you would be able to let me know . . . that you are alive.”

“I will,” Keith says softly, seeing the lingering remains of worry on Lance’s face, knowing he must be recalling some particularly painful thoughts. “Anything in my power, I will do for you.”

They go to breakfast the following morning, fingers linked solidly together. Allura’s door opens down the hall in front of them, and she steps out into the corridor followed closely by Shiro. Lance smirks at the sight--he  _ knew _ something was going on between the two of them. Allura’s cheeks redden when she sees her brother practically sashay past them, repeatedly winking at the two of them, the sound of the prince’s loud laughter echoing down the hall.

“Lance! Get back here!” Allura hisses, but he doesn’t listen, pretending not to hear. The princess just shakes her head, still mortified but heart happy that her brother is back to being himself again. She’ll just have to get ahold of the little rascal before too long, and politely persuade (more like bribe) him into holding his tongue about Shiro.

The following summer, Lance and Keith attend the summer festival together. Lance somehow persuades Keith to wear a flower crown once more, one that matches the one the prince happens to be wearing. Together, with Lance laughing gleefully the entire time while Keith’s cheeks burn a bright pink, they dance with the groups of small children, whirling around in circles. Lance happens to catch Keith looking at him at one point, his eyes warm with affection, his smile fond and sweet. It’s that loving glance that Lance hangs on to when Keith goes away on other missions, the last thing that crosses his mind before he falls asleep.

And when Keith does go away from time to time on missions of varying purpose, Lance gives his signet ring back to Keith each time, with his lover’s solemn promise that he will come back home to him.

He always does.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think! :)
> 
> Feel free to come chat about klance with me on tumblr! I am [telltaleheartwrites.](http://telltaleheartwrites.tumblr.com)


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